Prank Call
by starlightwalking
Summary: Enjolras receives an unexpected call from a stranger. Naturally, it's all Courfeyrac's fault. ONESHOT. Gift to Divine Daedra.


This is a Christmas gift for the incredible Warrior Wyvern. Merry Christmas, Gwen!

* * *

 **Prank Call**

* * *

Courfeyrac stumbled into the bathroom of the bar, coughing. He lurched over to the toilet, quickly pulled down his pants, and sat his ass down on the seat, giving himself a moment to breathe and relieve himself.

When he'd caught his breath and was done doing his business, he rubbed his forehead. This had been a weird night. When he'd decided to go to the bar with Joly and Bossuet, he hadn't expected the latter's bad luck to rub off on him. After Bossuet had offended the bartender, Courfeyrac had been one standing in the way when some bikers had complained about the music. Now sporting a bruised arm, he, Bossuet, and Joly had sat down and drank moodily.

Courfeyrac couldn't quite remember Joly's joke, but he did remember laughing so hard he started coughing—and suddenly realizing he _really_ needed to use the restroom.

Now, sitting on the toilet, he felt much better. This was not a high quality bar. It sported only one, gender-neutral bathroom and a single toilet, with a condom dispenser next to the sink and graffiti and cell phone numbers scribbled all over the walls.

Somehow in the confusion, Courfeyrac had grabbed Joly's man-purse. He picked it up. Snickering, he rooted through it, finding nothing incredibly interesting: Joly's phone, some gum, his credit cards and various membership cards to all the local stores, his medications, some cat stickers, and various multi-colored sharpies.

An idea came to him. After quickly flushing the toilet and pulling his pants back up, he took out a neon blue sharpie and scribbled a certain individual's phone number onto the walls of the stall. Beneath it, he added: _Call for a good time_.

He rather hoped someone would.

* * *

Enjolras was not the type to waste his evenings, but since all his friends were busy tonight, he had curled up with some cookies and a blanket and put on his favorite Disney movie (which, right now, was _Brave_ ). Really, a relaxing evening alone wasn't a waste, he reasoned. There were other things he could be doing, yes, but he had earned a little break.

Halfway through the movie, Enjolras's phone rang. Annoyed, he checked to see who it was—Combeferre had probably forgotten it was nearly midnight and called him up excitedly to inform him about some new discovery he had unearthed while perusing Wikipedia. Or maybe Bahorel and Feuilly needed a ride home from whatever it was they were doing, he couldn't quite remember.

But no, it was none of them. He frowned, not recognizing the number. Dare he to answer it?

Well, of course. It could be important.

"Hello?" he asked into the phone after pausing his movie.

"Heyyy," a stranger's voice replied. Enjolras blinked. This was unexpected. "Wassup?"

"Um...who is this?" he asked.

"The name's Grantaire," the voice on the other end of the line said. "I saw your number here on this bathroom wall and thought what the hell? I'm bored. A good time sounds nice. I thought, with nice handwriting like that, though, you'd be a girl, but you don't sound like one. Still, I swing both ways. You down for a hook up?"

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Enjolras said, confused by this chatty bisexual stranger.

"Your number's scrawled here on the bathroom wall here," the stranger—what had he called himself? Grantaire?—explained. "Did you not mean it? Do you not want a good time?"

"Where are you?" he asked. "I don't remember writing my number on a bathroom wall anywhere."

There was the sound of shuffling on the other end of the line. "I'm at the Pope's Nose bar, in Tacoma, Washington. Were you too drunk to remember it?"

"Well...I do live in Tacoma," Enjolras admitted. "But I've never been to that bar. I try not to drink too much, especially not at bars. It's a waste of money."

"Sorry for calling, then," Grantaire said, though he sounded a little disappointed. He must be really horny, Enjolras thought, if he was this desperate for a hook up. "I can scribble out your number, if you want."

"That would be great, thank you," Enjolras said. He frowned. "I have no idea how it got there, though."

"Maybe a prank?" Grantaire suggested.

"Or maybe..." Enjolras gritted his teeth. Courfeyrac was a regular patron of the Pope's Nose, now that he thought about it, and his handwriting was very good—almost like a girl's. Well, at least what people expected girls' handwriting to look like. "A joke. _Courfeyrac_. What was that man thinking?"

"Sounds like he needs a good lesson," the stranger said, laughing loudly.

"He does," Enjolras said darkly. "I need to have a very stern conversation with him about personal information staying _private_..."

"Nah, that's no fun!" Grantaire protested. "Sir—what's your name, again?"

"Enjolras," he said, though he didn't think he'd told the guy his name originally.

"Enjolras, you've got to make sure he doesn't forget this lesson," Grantaire insisted. "Do something...creative."

"Why am I even still talking to you?" Enjolras wondered aloud.

"Because I have a lovely voice?"

Enjolras snorted. "Unlikely." But he didn't hang up.

"We've got to prank him in return," Grantaire insisted.

" _We_?" Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow, though Grantaire couldn't see, obviously.

"Well, yeah! He got me, too! I want payback!"

"You're a very strange person, Grantaire," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "What do you suggest?"

"Wait, you're letting me in? Really?"

"I don't know why I'm listening to you, but yes. It was your idea to prank him back, and I think it's something Courf deserves."

There was a bark of laughter on the other end of the line. "Awesome! Well, have I got some ideas for our revenge date..."

"Date?" Enjolras said quickly.

"Well, yeah," Grantaire said. "That's what it is, right? Maybe don't wanna have a good time when you barely know me, but maybe _later_ —"

"I highly doubt it," Enjolras said, "seeing as I'm asexual."

"Oh, cool! Well, we can still have a date, right? I kinda like you, and not just in a sexual way. 'Specially since I've never actually seen you."

Enjolras let out a little sigh. "Well, I don't know—"

"We've still got to get revenge on this Courf guy, anyway," Grantaire added.

"Fine." Enjolras smiled. This bisexual guy did seem very interesting, and he wasn't immediately turned off by his asexuality. Besides, he _would_ love to see Courf's joke backfire on him. "Call it a date if you want. But first—what are we doing to Courf, exactly?"

* * *

Courfeyrac was enjoying a nice, cheesy slice of pizza when his phone rang. He didn't recognize the number. He swiped one greasy finger across the phone screen, and lifted it up to his ear.

"'Ello?" he asked through a mouthful of pizza.

"G'day, sir," a man on the other end of the line said in a thick British accent. "I am calling you all the way from England to ask you, sir, about your love life."

Courfeyrac choked on his pizza, surprised. After coughing and taking a few moments to swallow, he spluttered out, "What?!"

"Well, your love life! Are you deaf, sir?"

"No!"

"Well, good thing, because my grandfather is and he has a right hard time answering surveys like this!"

"Are you sure you have the right number?" Courfeyrac asked.

"Yessir, you are Mr. Jean Courfeyrac, correct?"

"Well, yeah, that's me, but I—"

"Well, how wonderful!" the British man exclaimed. "I am Louie Lawrence, let's get started!"

"How did you get this number?"

"First question!" Louie Lawrence exclaimed, ignoring him. "Do you currently have a partner?"

"Yes, but—"

"Second question! What is his name?"

"How did you know I was gay?" Courfeyrac demanded.

"We know lots of things about you, Jean," Louie whispered, his British accent disappearing.

"I—what?" Courfeyrac asked. "Well, then—well, why do you need to survey me, then?"

"Third question!" Louie Lawrence continued brightly, as if nothing had happened. "How many times each week do you and Combeferre have sex?"

"How do you know his name?!" Courfeyrac shouted, his cheeks reddening.

"Do you prefer—"

"Is this a prank?" Courfeyrac demanded, cutting Louie off. "I'm just trying to enjoy some pizza!"

"Typical Courf," Louie tutted. "You can't see, but I'm shaking my head right now."

"How do you know my nickname?!"

From the other end of the line, someone in the background started laughing. Courfeyrac frowned. He knew that laugh.

"Now, Jean, my grandmother works for Durex, and she is very interested in your condom preferences."

The laughing in the background grew louder, and he suddenly realized who it was.

"Is this a prank?" he demanded. "Is—Enjolras, is that you? Who _is_ this guy?"

"Aw, looks like he figured us out," Louie Lawrence said to the laughing person who was definitely Enjolras, his accent now mysteriously gone.

"That was the _worst_ British accent I've ever heard," Courfeyrac said, disgusted that he had fallen for Enjolras's prank.

"Hey, Courf," Enjolras said, still laughing a little. "Pretty funny, huh?"

"So _that's_ how that guy knew all those things about me!" Courf grumbled. "Enjolras, who _is_ he?"

"I'm not actually Louie Lawrence from England," the man who wasn't Louie Lawrence admitted. "The name's Grantaire."

"Grantaire here called me the other day," Enjolras explained, "looking for a hookup. Apparently _somebody_ had written my phone number on the bathroom wall of the Pope's Nose."

"Ohh," Courfeyrac said guiltily. "Yeah. About that..."

"So we decided to prank you back!" Grantaire finished.

"I didn't expect anyone to call! Not _really_!" he protested. "You guys got me good, though."

Enjolras snorted. "We sure did."

"Hey, where are you guys?" Courfeyrac asked.

"The Starbucks by my place," Enjolras replied. "I'm free today—wanna hang out?"

"Aw, does that mean the date's over?" Grantaire asked.

" _Date_?" Courfeyrac burst into laughter. "Well! Aren't you glad I wrote your number on the wall now, Enj?"

Grantaire laughed raucously. Enjolras snorted. "I'm still deciding that."

"Wow, rude," Grantaire said in mock hurt.

"Yeah, I'll be right over," Courfeyrac said, getting up.

"Is Ferre free?" Enjolras asked.

"Nah, he's working," Courfeyrac replied.

"So tell me, Mr. Courf," Grantaire said slyly, "how often _do_ you two have sex?"

Courfeyrac hung up.


End file.
